Andy McNab - War torn

Emily was flicking through clothes on a small hanging rail jammed in beside a computer.

'I have a long-sleeved blouse. But I don't have a long skirt. And I'm certainly not wearing that ridiculous camouflage stuff. I have no wish to make myself look like a bush.'

Asma did not want to open her eyes and reply. She just wanted to feel the cool air soothing her.

Jean said: 'Surely you have something that will cover your legs.'

Emily blinked. 'Why should I? I am not a Moslem.'

'Trousers?'

'Certainly not.'

'Nightie?'

'No.'

Asma opened her eyes with an effort.

'Do you wear pyjamas?'

'Well, I do have pyjamas but if you think I'm-'

'You could wear them under a skirt. That'd be better than nothing.'

Jean agreed. 'It won't look so different from the clothes Afghan women wear.'

Emily put her hands on her broad hips.

'I am not going out in my pyjamas.'

'You don't understand,' said Jean. 'To the Afghans this is about your body and not your clothes. They don't care what you wear as long as you cover up. We can only visit them if we show proper respect. Asma and I always cover our bodies and we drape a scarf over our heads when we go to shuras.'

Asma added: 'We're out there and we're women, that's bad enough for the locals. Uncovered women are just like: no!'

'That view is of course unacceptable to me.'

'Professor, we're in Afghanistan, we've got to respect Afghan traditions.'

Emily raised her eyebrows and looked birdlike again. She leaned forward to peck.

'I can't see how arriving with troops and bombs to kill Afghans is respecting their traditions. However, this obviously matters to you both very much and you know the country and its people. So if you insist, I'll wear my pyjamas under my skirt. Although I shall feel rather silly.'

Jean and Asma were ready and waiting with the military escort before the civilians emerged.

'I'm telling you now so you don't laugh. Emily will be wearing pyjamas,' said Jean. 'She's got nothing else to cover her legs.'

Sergeant Somers of 2 Platoon and his commander instantly guffawed.

'That's what you mustn't do!' Asma told them.

The OC looked around the group fiercely.

'The girls are right. It is very important that no one laughs.'

Emily arrived wearing pink pyjamas, a grey skirt, a pink blouse and pink headscarf knotted under her chin as well as full body armour and the OC was the first to burst out laughing. Despite glares from Asma and Jean, he was closely followed by the engineer and the 2 i/c. Martyn grinned from ear to ear and 2 Platoon muttered jokes to one another and staggered about stifling laughter. A few took pictures.

'Get on the wagons!' their sergeant growled at them. And then immediately clamped his hand over his mouth.

'At least all the colours match,' Asma told Emily kindly.

'And we take our body armour off before we go in,' Jean said. 'You'll feel more comfortable without it.'

'I'm delighted to have brightened up everyone's day,' said Emily grumpily.

'It's all in the interests of building strong local relationships.' The OC handed her up into the Vector.

'Local relations would be much improved if you didn't spend so much time peppering them with bullets,' retorted Emily. Martyn rolled his eyes at the OC and then climbed up behind her.

When they reached the tribesmen's house they were once again welcomed warmly by Asad, his father and brother. In the background hovered a large group of men and boys. Nobody here seemed to find Emily's pyjamas funny.

As they sat down, Asad caught Asma's eye and smiled. He was every bit as attractive as she remembered him. He was tall, much taller than most Afghans. His features were strong. And his blue eyes in that brown face were startling.

'It is a great pleasure to welcome you to our home again,' he said warmly.

She smiled back, dropped her eyes and told him how honoured the party was to attend the house and meet his family once more. Of course, the officers were supposed to present the greetings and she was supposed to translate them. But you could wait for ever for soldiers to do charm.

Emily lowered herself onto the carpet with difficulty and clearly did not enjoy crossing her legs. She was introduced and her role explained and the tribesmen listened politely then turned to Martyn with their questions.

'Is your search for Helmand's natural resources proving successful?' Asad asked him.

Martyn said: 'Yes, we've had some very interesting results.'

'Is oil everywhere in this region? Or just in one place?'

Emily did not intend to be ignored. Before Martyn could answer she said: 'We are concentrating our activities in the area we believe to be most productive.'

Asad's father nodded and turned back to Martyn: 'And how can you know from looking at the earth that there is oil and gas beneath it?'

Martyn smiled. 'I've been an oilman all my life. I just know, I can feel it, I can almost smell it.' He glanced at Emily. 'Although some people need persuading about my hunches.'

Emily looked at Martyn coldly and then said to the tribesmen, 'Naturally our exploration is scientific and our suppositions should be data-based. We carry out an initial rough analysis of the terrain by looking at its predominant geological eras. After preliminary exercises which help us pinpoint where the most likely compression has occurred we do a detailed analysis by, among other less accurate methods, taking seismic readings from the rock.'

Asma and Jean looked at each other in despair.

'I can't translate that,' said Jean.

Asma attempted it and the tribesmen nodded as though they'd understood. Asad asked Asma: 'Who did you say this woman is?'

Asma explained again that Emily was an eminent professor who knew more about geophysics than anyone else in the UK.

'So we can be sure, then, that the site is a true one?' asked Asad.

Asma translated this and Emily nodded vigorously. 'Certainly!' She glanced at Martyn. 'I do not make mistakes.'

Martyn grimaced.

Major Willingham was impatient. He said: 'Last time we were here you mentioned that you believed there was a Taliban training centre nearby.'

Asad's father nodded.

'We do believe that. We believe people are coming from all over the world to train at that centre. Some of them even come from England!'

The OC ignored this. He asked: 'What effect are the Taliban having on this area?'

'We live in fear. They arrive at our homes and demand hospitality, they eat our food, take our animals and steal from our shops. They even bring drugs into our households,' said Asad's father passionately.

'So you would like the area cleared of them?'

'Yes. We would like them to go back to their own countries and leave us to our Afghan traditions.'

'Then why don't you fight them yourselves?' demanded Emily.

'We are powerless in the face of their international strength.'

'You said you would tell us exactly where the Taliban training ground is. If you do so, we can help you clear this area of their influence,' said the major. He was trying to appear relaxed, thought Asma, but a slight breathlessness in his voice gave away the importance of the question.

'We have discussed this among ourselves and we can tell you exactly,' said the father.

Asad said something to one of the boys hanging around at the side of the room. The boy ran off and, while they waited for his return, hot, sweet tea was served by old men.

Emily tried to take advantage of the break to stretch out her legs but Jean stopped her at once.

'Don't put your legs forward!'

'Why ever not?'

'It just isn't OK.'

Asma's face was reddening for Emily. 'You can stand up, but you can't stretch out.'

The boy returned with a map and everybody pored over it. Martyn was quick to find the Early Rocks.